Mystery Kids: The Lucky Thirteen
by CallMeIndigo
Summary: It's been almost four years since Dipper and Mabel's first trip to Gravity Falls— and to say "a lot has changed" would be an understatement. Now, a strange, magnetic sensation is affecting the citizens of Gravity Falls, and it's up to the Mystery Twins and their friends to find out what it is. But Dipper is hiding a dark secret, and somewhere in the woods, an old enemy is rising...
1. Prologue

" _My time has come to burn._

 _I invoke the ancient power that I may return._ "

ﾟ･:*✧(▲)✧*:･ﾟ

 _February 15th, 2016:_ Triangle

"No, no, _no_!"

A few birds flew away at the sound of the anguished cry. It had come from a bare figure, a young man clutching his golden-blond locks. His voice was thick with tears. "This wasn't what I meant!"

His hands, which had been entangled in his hair, suddenly let go. The boy held them out in front of him, staring at the tanned digits, free of scars and blemishes. The sight made his breath hitch— but instead of crying, he swung his head up towards the night sky and shouted at the heavens, speaking in a strange, inhuman tongue.

.

"Ytͤ͊̎́i̠ͮͮe͇͚̱d̲͚ a̟̦ ̓̏̔ro͗f͎ ͇̙eͯ̓̾su̼̝͔̪̼̝ͬ́c̨̙͚̓̆̂x̷ͩ̓̂ͭ̅̂ͯe͙͉ ̡̖̫̻̗͈̹͙ͭ͌͋̉͌ͤs̛͖ͫ͊̂s̶̖̜ͧͯ̉ͅe̯͂͆ͬl̳̽̽ͯ̕h͚̬̗̙͐̈͗̽̈́ͨt̟͙͋ͬ̃ͦͪ̆r̷̥̭̠̟̪̆̄ͭ̄ǒ̘͈͔̱̞̍͊̆ͭ̊ͯͅw͎͚̦̤͓̬ͮͦͫ̌̌͑ ̜͓̘̩̤̇̈ͪͬ͊ͮ̍̀u̻̳̖o̞̗͠ͅy̢̤͒̆͌͋,̲͇͉̰͋͝ D̴̲͓͇͗̄͌͌̑̽i͇̣̱͉̪̊̊ͩ͋̂͒õ̻͎͎̪̠̳̐̅ͯͨͩ̃͝v̩̼͕͇ ̞̭̩̘͓ͬ̎̌͌e͗͗͛ͪ̉ͣ҉͎ht̺̻̻ ̮̜̝̘̟̘n̟̙i̹̠ ̭̼̠t͕o̪̺̬rͥ͑ o̡̮̱̪͖͎̦̫͛̐g͔͈͔̫̪,̂̍̒͆̽ ͛̈̄͛̚L̂t̺̹o̭l̻̘o̮̼͖ͨͩ̂x̏̀̆ͥ!̬͚"

He continued to rant, unconsciously slipping back into English, his hands now curled into fists at his sides.

"Is this your idea of a joke?!" he snarled, "Some sort of _karmic backlash_?! Is a dimensional _death threat_ worth _anything_ these days?!" He threw his arms open, challenging whatever entity had angered him.

He stood there a few moments, in the middle of the clearing, as if waiting for a response. But there was nothing: just the sound of crickets and small creatures moving in the underbrush. Tonight, the forest was empty.

"Urgh…" he groaned quietly. He rested one of those blasted hands over his eyes. "A human, of all things… A pathetic sack of _emotions_ and _meat_ …"

His grimace hardened, and he exploded again, unable to contain himself.

" _You could've at least let me keep my powers, asshole!_ "

His fist swung forward into the bark of the nearest tree. There was a sickening crunch.

"Ow, fuck!"

The figure jumped back, holding his hurting fingers, staring at them as if he had never felt something like this before: tears welled up in his eyes again, from pain and frustration and fear. He tried to move the fingers a bit and winced.

Through the pain, he couldn't help but smile faintly. "Heh, heh… Listen to me, ranting to a Providence who couldn't hear me if it wanted to…" He shook his head, laughing at himself, at his patheticness, at his ridiculousness. He was a pawn now. One of _them_.

He glanced up at the tree he'd assaulted: a gorgeous pine, completely unfazed by the punch it had suffered. As his eyes trailed up the tree, he saw a shooting star just graze its top, far out of his reach. He stared at it thoughtfully.

"... Those kids…"

Despite the hatred in the quiet whisper, a true grin broke open on his face— his first ever in this life. Maybe the kids were unfazed and out of reach now— but they wouldn't always be that way.

"Don't worry, Pine Tree," he murmured darkly. His gaze dropped back to his injured hand, seeing it in a new light. It was a weak hand, yes, but it was _his_ hand now: one with which he could mold and create and destroy— _especially_ destroy. A physical form. "Just you wait, I'll get my revenge."

"Even if have to tear this _whole universe_ to shreds."

ﾟ･:*✧(▲)✧*:･ﾟ

 **Author's Notes- PLEASE READ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

 ***TRIGGER WARNING for depression and suicidal ideation (later chapters)**

 ***Credit to _life-writer_ on Tumblr for Dipper's tattoo idea**

 ***Credit to the _Mystery Kids Project_ for the Crossover-AU concept/premise (even though this and that are nothing alike anymore)**

 ***Ship warning— like, a lot of shipping. Too many to count. (But no Pinecest. Geez, what is wrong with you people.)**


	2. Chapter 1

_May 9th, 2016:_ Pine Tree

It started in April.

Early in the month, before the spring weather had truly settled in yet. At first he thought it was his imagination, but then things started getting weird. Weirder than usual, that is.

For one thing, he wasn't the only person who noticed. Gravity Falls broke its oblivious silence, speaking in whispers behind Mayor Tyler's back. Random people around town started casually mentioning it: Wendy, Pacifica, Stan… One day, even Gideon showed up at his door, beloved skateboard in hand, asking if he had experienced it.

Of course he had. He had before anyone else.

It was on the second day of the month that he felt… something. Like a metaphysical force, a magnetic attraction that weighed on the mind and soul. After the third and fourth time, he started to keep a separate notebook for the occurrences.

Soos started calling it the "Gravitational Pull."

When he'd call Mabel to ask her about it, she'd say she felt it too, even though she was so far away. Arguably, she felt it as strongly as he did, and he felt it more than anyone. His research decided that her distance was a factor in the strength of the Pull's effect on her.

Or was it because they were twins?

Dipper shook his head, staring at the papers strewn across the desk that had replaced Mabel's bed. There were so many notes, so many logs. Everything from the phonebook to Cipher's wheel to math equations stared at him, covered in his tidy scrawl.

Were they all connected?

Or maybe _none_ of them were connected…?

Dipper sighed and pulled off his hat, scratching his head underneath. He needed to take a step back. Maybe he'd go for a walk. Call Mabel. Something. Anything but stare at these notes for another three hours.

 _Mamma mia! Here I go again! My, my, how can I resist you…?_

Dipper groaned and scavenged through the papers, trying to find the crappy cellphone Stan had bought him. The flip phone was easy to find with its obnoxious vibration. He snatched it up, sending a few sheets to the floor.

Oh.

It was Norman.

Dipper's heart did a weird twist in his chest. He felt himself blushing, and was glad he was in an empty room.

He really needed to answer Norman. At some point. Eventually. But there was so much _prep_ for what he had planned… and so much _work_ he needed to do…

Dipper glanced back at said work, staring dismally at the overflowing desk. Another sheet of paper slipped off and fell to the floor.

… _.My, my, just how much I've missed you...?_

Well, it was now or never.

He ignored the call and immediately opened up his messages, typing a quick line: _Hey, it's me, give me an hour._

The piece-of-crap phone began ringing over and over again, starting his girly ringtone over with each new message. He shut the phone off after it skipped the fourth time. Norman could wait an hour.

 _Damn, he must be so pissed..._

Forty-five minutes later, Dipper found himself on an old desktop computer in the corner of the library. He was thankful that the local high school didn't have finals yet, or else the building might actually have people in it. A webcam he had snagged at a garage sale for a couple bucks rested on top of the clunky machine, and Skope was almost finished downloading on the screen.

As soon as the program had started up, his fingers flew across the keyboard, logging in and selecting _Prenderghast13_ from his friend list. He hesitated for a moment— his mouse hovering over the call button— took a deep breath, and clicked.

The dial tone rang once, halfway, before Norman picked up.

"Dude, where the _hell_ have you been?!"

 _Oh, shit, he_ is _angry._

"Jeez, calm down!" Dipper snapped, leaning back in the chair. He adjusted the webcam quickly before his eyes settled on the boy occupying his screen.

Norman glared back, dark rings still circling his eyes, his hair still standing on end like a porcupine's quills. Unlike his usual, laidback self, he was clutching the edge of his desk in one hand, the mouse in the other, and he looked poised to win a major RPG boss battle.

"Calm down? _Calm down?!_ You _can't_ be serious!" The medium stood up and started pacing in front of the camera; he was only visible from the torso down, but Dipper could tell he was raging mad.

"How can you just _disappear_ like that?! It's been over a month! Over. A. _Month_! I thought you were dead, but what, were you just _ignoring_ me this whole time? Tired of talking to a _freak_? Is that it?!"

Norman's face ended up snarling back into the camera, and Dipper scrambled to turn the volume of his speakers down, looking around worriedly. Norman noticed.

"Where the fuck even _are_ you? What…" Dipper glanced back at the screen and noticed that Norman's uncharacteristic outrage had melted into his underlying worry. "... What _happened_?" he finished in a normal volume, his eyes wandering over the screen.

Dipper leaned back again with one more "just-in-case" look over his shoulder. "Are you done?" he asked hollowly, staring at his best friend's hurt expression.

Norman hunched his shoulders embarrassedly, his ears turning red. "Well, if you're ready to explain, then yeah, I guess so," he muttered, a twinge of guilt escaping into the words.

"Good." Dipper gave a heavy sigh, mulling over the story in his head. He had given the conversation so much thought, he had chosen the perfect words time and time again, but now… he had nothing. Figures.

Finally, he forced out five words. "I was... in... the hospital," he began with a couple pauses, trying not to look away, and then looking away despite his efforts. He slouched in defeat, his face turning slightly pink.

Norman was silent for a moment, and then the onslaught of remorse began.

"Oh my god, Dipper, I'm so sorry! I had no idea, I thought— I thought—"

"No! Stop, it's okay!" Dipper interrupted frantically, waving his hands in front of the screen, trying to dispel Norman's apologies. "It's okay. Really," he added in a quiet voice.

Norman swallowed hard enough for the sound to carry through the speakers, and then he steadily said, "You don't have to tell me anything personal, it's alright."

Dipper snorted. "Are you kidding me?" he scoffed, crossing his arms. "Of _course_ I'm going to tell you! What _else_ are we going to talk about?"

Norman looked a little surprised, then gave him a sheepish grin. "Well, I, uh, made a really good apple pie with Courtney yesterday," he proposed jokingly. Dipper laughed.

"Tell me about your pie later, 'kay? I've been procrastinating for way too long."

Norman looked like he was going to voice some sort of worry, but then he closed his mouth tightly and nodded.

"Alright," Dipper acknowledged his friend's prompt and sat back, taking his old baseball cap of his head. He played with the hat, more self-conscious than he had ever felt in his life.

"The truth is…" This was _sooo_ much _worse_ than when he told his grunkles, or Soos and Melody. This was _Norman_ , his best friend— his… crush? Dipper waved the thought away, afraid he was going to blush again. "... The truth is…"

"Take you time, Dip." Norman made a show of putting his feet up and crossing his arms behind his head, grinning playfully. "I'll listen if you want me to. Or you can just _not_ say anything, and I'll pretend nothing happened. Either way's okay with me."

"I- I know, I know, I'm just... being stupid," Dipper muttered, glancing over the chair once again and making sure his section of the library was still deserted. When he was satisfied, he turned back to Norman, whose grin was starting to tilt back into a concerned frown.

"Look, I… I had… a problem a while back," Dipper sighed, propping up his chin in his hand. His eyes were trained on the penned graffiti covering the old table. "It was back during spring break. Long story short, I ended up trying... to… hurt myself, and I ended up in psy- psychiatric c-c-care."

Dipper forced the last couple words out with a small stutter. Still staring intently at an obscene drawing scraped into the wood of the table, he waited for Norman's response.

"...Dipper, look at me."

Dipper slowly, fearfully raised his head and saw that Norman was kicking his feet off his desk. The medium sat back normally, and smiled bittersweetly at his camera.

"You don't have to be so scared of what I'll think. I like you—" Dipper's heart fluttered, "— and I just want you to be okay. ...You _are_ okay, right?" Norman frowned. "That's the most important thing."

Dipper missed a beat, then quickly answered, "Yeah, yeah! I'm fine." A coil that had been winding in his chest loosened. He relaxed, a grin slowly spreading across his face. Norman _didn't_ hate him— he didn't think Dipper was a creep! "I'm way better now, actually."

"Well, then, so what's up? What happened after?"

It didn't take long for Dipper and Norman to fall back into their old patterns, despite the weeks they'd spent without communication. Dipper caught Norman up on what had transpired since he was discharged from the hospital.

"... So, long story short, I don't have my own computer anymore," Dipper finished, cracking a bittersweet smile. "Stan doesn't believe in them."

"Damn." Norman fiddled with a zombie-themed pen on his desk, clicking the glowing eyes on and off absentmindedly. "So you're staying at the Shack now?"

Dipper shrugged. "Some days. Soos and Melody let me stay over if I'm working really late."

"Working?"

Dipper froze, his tilted chair thudding back to the carpet floor. He had been so caught up in the Pull that he had forgotten not many people knew about it. He clasped his hands on the edge of the desk, dragging the chair forward.

"Oh my god, Norman! You're not going to believe this!" he exclaimed, beaming like the sun.

Norman sat back, waiting patiently. When Dipper got like this- when his eyes lit up and he looked like he was ready to take on the world- Norman couldn't help but fall under the spell with him.

"There's this thing- it's like some sort of collective _summon_ , random people around town can feel it, but no one can tell where it's coming from! Even _Mabel_ can feel it, all the way in Piedmont! I've been trying to track it, but nothing makes sense, and the targeted individuals are completely random, the only thing in common is that they come from _this town_ …"

He noticed suddenly that Norman had gone very quiet. Dipper's hands, which had been raised in the air in excitement, dropped back to the desk. "Norm, you okay?"

"I, uh, yeah." Norman smiled, all his energy back. "What's it like? Can you feel it right now?"

"Yeah, if you're not distracted, you can totally feel it," Dipper explained, easily assuaged, "It's this constant thought like, 'I need to go here,' but you don't know where 'here' is, just the general area. Ford thinks it might be some telepathic connection, but he's never seen anything _near_ this strong!"

"Do you think other people might feel it outside of Oregon?" Norman asked excitedly, and suddenly his hands were back on the mouse and keyboard, "Should I put something up on the blog?"

It was Norman's idea to create a blog about their supernatural adventures: Dipper's on the west coast, and his on the east. Though Dipper still kept a variety of journals and notebooks (steadily rebuilding his and Ford's research), the more mysterious things they encountered were posted online, asking readers to help solve the mysteries.

"Yeah, go ahead! How many followers do we have?"

Norman paused for a second as the page loaded. "Three-hundred and fifty-four."

Dipper grimaced; the number must have been close to stagnant this entire time. "Really?"

"Yeah, well, the only new stuff was about Dogtown, and there wasn't much there. Lots of ghosts, as usual, but nothing crazy."

"There hasn't been anything else?" Dipper asked disappointedly. One of the things he'd been waiting to hear most— once he explained his absence, of course— was what Norman had been up to.

Norman fidgeted, his eyes falling away from the camera. "Well, the thing is… my parents don't want me to do the ghost hunting thing anymore," he mumbled to the Nirvana mug on his desk.

A disbelieving chuckle left Dipper's mouth before he could stifle it. "You're parents _do_ know you're a medium, right?"

He felt a bit of remorse for the snarky comment when Norman continued to look upset. "I mean, they _do_ , but— well, they _try_ to believe." Norman's look got a bit bit darker; Dipper felt a pain in his chest at the sight. "But my dad keeps saying that I should focus more on sports, or school, or friends."

"Well, just tell them you _are_ focusing on friends," Dipper argued, "What, do they think I'm secretly a poltergeist or something?"

"They still think you're actually some forty-year-old pedophile," Norman snorted, finally dropping his frown.

"They've _seen_ me!"

"Yeah, my mom swears you've been hired to pretend to be 'Ursa_Major_Pain.'"

Dipper shook his head as Norman giggled, amazed that his parents could be so stubborn. "Does that mean you can't come visit in June?" he complained, only slightly exaggerating his dismay.

"Nah, I'm sure I can convince them by— What's that on your arm?"

Dipper froze with his hand adjusting his cap. His left sleeve had slipped down, revealing dark markings along his wrist.

"Oh— Wendy's been drawing on me when she's bored," he lied easily with a sheepish grin. Norman raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"You mean _Wendy_ , Wendy? The Wendy you've had a crush on since I met you?"

"That was years ago," Dipper scoffed, the marks now covered again. He tried not to show how nervous he felt.

"I dunno, I've had my doubts—"

"Norman, listen," Dipper interrupted, his eyes flickering to the time. 1:45 in the afternoon. He could easily fake this. "I kinda promised Soos I'd help out at the Mystery Shack around two, but I'll call you later, alright?"

Norman still looked like he hadn't finished voicing his suspicions on Wendy... but he sighed in defeat. "Alright, fine. I'll talk to you later." He grinned contentedly.

Dipper couldn't help but smile back. "'Kay. Don't forget to convince your parents."

"Trust me, I won't. And Dip?"

Dipper paused, his mouse over the 'end call' button, and looked back at Norman. "Yeah?"

"...I'm really glad you're back," Norman admitted quietly.

Dipper nodded bashfully. "Me too."

He ended the call, then heaved a great sigh.

That was close— _way_ too close. He reflexively pulled his sleeve down further, even though nothing was visible.

He went through the motions of logging himself out, afraid that if he waited too long, Norman would remember to tell him something and call back. As much as he missed the laidback psychic, Dipper didn't want to talk to him if it meant he had to lie. Not that he hadn't gotten any practice in the art of deceit lately, but it still made him guilty.

He'd told Melody he'd probably be back by four.

Oops.

What could he do for two hours? Dipper turned off the ancient console and collected his things. Maybe visit the Stans? Yeah, visiting his great-uncles sounded like a good idea; he really didn't come over as often as they'd like. Even if Stanley never admitted it.

A sudden elation filled Dipper as he packed away the webcam. The weight of fearing Norman's judgement was gone: he had his best friend back! Swinging his bag over his shoulder, he headed out of the library. He smiled at the librarian sitting at the desk, who failed to notice him, and hopped down the concrete steps, never breaking stride.

Now all he needed was Mabel back, and life might actually be worth it again.

 _May 9th, 2016:_ Specter

Norman stared at his computer screen, where a "call ended" message was blinking at him. He felt… something. A _whole lot_ of 'somethings.' He grabbed his mug of hot cocoa and took a deep sip.

He was happy. That was definitely one of the 'somethings' he felt. A bubbling warmth that had nothing to do with the cocoa was making its way up his body, making him grin like a fool. God, he had missed Dipper. When Dipper's texts suddenly stopped, when no one called at two in the morning with exciting monster-hunt news, when the little subtext under _Ursa_Major_Pain_ had read "offline" for weeks straight…

A hard _pang_ thudded in Norman's chest, cutting off the bubbles. Yeah, that was another 'something' that he felt: pain. More specifically, betrayal. He took another, smaller sip, but the pain made it hard to swallow. He thought it had been his fault; he thought Dipper was sick of him. He had laid awake each night for who-knows-how-long wondering what he had done wrong.

But it _wasn't_ his fault— and that was 'something' else. Dipper was… sick. _Had been_ sick, at least. And that came with a whole bunch of other feelings he didn't even want to think about, much less name, but they came to him anyway: shame at thinking only of himself, anger at the injustice against Dipper's health, guilt that he hadn't noticed or even guessed that Dipper was in pain…

Norman stood up, placing his mug back on the desk, and looked in the mirror. A lanky teen with terrible bags under his eyes grimaced back. Why did he still feel so bad? Dipper was back. The bubbly feeling rose in him again, and again it was stifled. He sighed, fogging the glass.

Maybe he just needed time for it to sink in. Yeah, that was it— by tomorrow morning, things would be back to the way they were, and he would feel right, and this time around he'd be there for Dipper.

" _Nooor_ -man, _Cooouurt-_ ney! Dinnertime!"

He turned towards his mother's call in surprise; her timing was always so uncanny that he wondered why she didn't believe she had psychic powers herself. He took a few steps towards the door, then doubled back to grab his mug— and caught sight of the calendar on his wall.

May. Almost summer. He was pretty sure that his dad would dog him about college applications again at dinner, even though it was still way too early. At least Norman could count on Courtney to take his si…

He froze.

Courtney. Courtney was in college. Granted, it was community college, so she stayed home, but—

But Wendy didn't.

Wendy was at a university in Canada.

Wendy wasn't in Gravity Falls to draw stupid things on Dipper's arms.

… _What the…?_

" _One minute, Mom_!" he hollered out his door. He jumped back to his laptop, putting down his mug so carelessly that it almost tipped all over the keyboard. He went to click the 'call' button and…

Hesitated.

"Something wrong, honey?"

He felt his grandmother's familiar presence behind him, and turned to face her. She gave him a teasing smile. "Your dinner will get cold, you know."

"Grandma," Norman muttered, looking back at the screen. She seemed to hear the worry in his voice and floated closer. Her pudgy, translucent hand floated beside his hand on the mouse.

"My friend's back," he explained to her quietly, "Y'know, Dipper. Dipper's back."

"Well, that seems good!" she exclaimed warmly, "But... why are you so upset, dear? Is everything okay?"

Norman looked back at the little mouse-arrow on his screen, still poised to call Dipper back. "I dunno, Grandma. I think he's… in trouble."

She sighed— a huge, heavy sigh, like how she used to sigh in life when she would sit down on a low chair. "Normie, honey… I know you care a lot about this friend of yours, but it's the same thing again: you're putting too much weight on him. He's on the other side of the country; he's got his own worries and activities and non-computer-y friends. Like you do."

Norman had heard this speech a hundred times— and at least two other versions of it from each of his parents— but he sat and listened silently as he always did. Until the end.

"He's… different, Grandma. And I think…" He was afraid she would interrupt, but she didn't. "... I think he needs me."

"Norman, he doesn't need you," she murmured gently, brushing an icy hand over his chin, "and you don't need him. You need to stop overanalyzing this so much. Now, go down to dinner. Your mother made fish tacos!"

He gave his grandma a sad smile. "Okay, okay. I'll be down in a minute. Lemme just write something to him first." She gave him a shrug that clearly said 'suit yourself,' then floated back through his wall.

Norman typed down a few lines and grabbed his mug again. He took a sip. The cocoa was cold.

With one last glance at the screen, he headed to dinner, his mind solely on his far-off crush and the secret he seemed to be keeping.

Hopefully Dipper would answer back soon.

ﾟ･:*✧(▲)✧*:･ﾟ

 _One message from Prenderghast13:_

" _Hey, i know uve been through a lot these past weeks, even if i havent heard the whole story. Just wanna tell u that if u ever need anyone to talk to, im here. Dont hesitate, ok? Ttys."_

ﾟ･:*✧(▲)✧*:･ﾟ

 **A/N: Just in case anyone is wondering, this _is_ a super-huge-multi-fandom crossover, so Gravity Falls and ParaNorman are just the tip of the iceberg. Also, the POV will be switching between characters, but will mostly stay on Dipper, as he's the main character. Hope you guys are enjoying! (*^ -^*)**


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